Lost and Found
by Siasa
Summary: Hisagi finds himself bound in a closet and attempts to piece together the drunken night before to figure out how he got there. Foul language, sexual innuendos, severe OOCness, drunkness.


Disclaimer: Bleach is owned by the amazing Tite Kubo. This is purely a work of my overactive imagination.

A/N: Wow, it's been far too long since I've posted anything. I know I should be working on my other story, but my art-slave RejectVigilante demanded to read a piece of my writing if I ever wanted her to draw for me again. We've both been on a Bleach kick, so she requested Hisagi, a clue-like mystery (which I failed at), and a sexy pose. This is the result.

Lost and Found

'Oh God, my head,' a throbbing pain spreading through his skull greeted Hisagi as he awoke from, what he assumed was a blissful unconscious night's sleep after passing out the night before. Hisagi slowly opened his eyes, preparing himself for the harsh sunlight that would be forcing its way through his window, yet he was met with complete blackness. He blinked, making sure that, yes, his eyes were, in fact, open. It was then that he noticed that a.) he was gagged, b.) his hands and feet were bound, and c.) he was topless.

'All right Shuuhei, you can handle this. So, you're half naked, cuffed to some kind of bar in some dark, cramped closet or something, unable to yell for help. No worries, just think, what happened last night that may have led to this?' Hisagi took several deep breaths, trying to stop his rising panic, which would increase his nausea, resulting in him throwing up all over himself in some random closet, which he did not feel like doing. As he calmed down, he began to piece together the events of last night:

"Are you crazy? Your hair looks like a red pineapple," Iba paused briefly, contemplating what he just said, "HAHAHA that makes you fruity! You fruitcake," he smacked his hand loudly on the table as he continued to cackle like a madman, spilling his drink in the process.

Renji's face turned as red as his hair as he downed his shot of whiskey, "I am NOT a fruitcake, you fuckin' poser. At least I don't need to try to make myself look cool. You look like a fag in those glasses. What gang you tryin' to be from anyhow, the Mauve Hand?"

"Psh, I don't even know what mauve is you homo. Besides, you can't see what I'm looking at in these glasses. Makes me mysterious. The ladies love a man of mystery." Iba looked longingly at his spilled booze on the table. He shot an angry drunken glare at Renji, since, of course it was his fault that his bourbon was no longer in his glass or on its merry way to his stomach, "They're way cooler than you lame tattoos and queer-ass bandanas."

Renji stood up abruptly, swaying slightly on his feet. "What'd ya say? Lame tattoos, my ass! These are so badass, they make you and your glasses look like, um, dandelions growing out of the old man's ass," he nodded his head as if that made perfect sense and sat back down. "Yeah, that's right. Now get me another whiskey you cocksmoking bag of dicks."

Iba, unable to reply to the randomness spewing from Renji's mouth did the only thing any semi-intelligent man would do in his situation, he headed over to the bar get them some more damn drinks, and fast before Renji started making even less sense.

On his way to the bar, Iba passed the table where Ikkaku and Kira were seated. Ikkaku, surrounded by empty bottles and glasses, had an arm slung around Kira's shoulders.

"I mean, c'mon Kira. It's been, like, how long since that bastard deserted you? Stop being a fuckin' pansy-ass. Grow a pair, be a man. What the fuck you drinkin' anyway, pretty-boy?" Ikkaku asked, slurping what must have been his eighth beer.

Kira laid his head down on the table, turning his face away from the obnoxious third seat and mumbled, "Gin and tonic."

"What was that, blondie? I couldn't hear that faggoty-ass reply over all that prettiness. Toss that by me once again when your testicles drop, kiddo," Ikkaku chugged the rest of his beer and opened another one. "Hey, bartender, bring something light and fluffy for the lady over here. Keep the training wheels on it, don't want the poor thing to get hurt," he yelled across the bar.

Kira, flushed with embarrassment, alcohol, and rage glared at Ikkaku. He took one of the empty bottles on the table and brought it down hard on Ikkaku's glistening head, glass shattering on impact, shards covering Ikkaku's shoulders and the floor. "I can get my own drink, thank you very much," he growled between clenched teeth as he stole the beer from Ikkaku's hands and chugged the whole bottle.

Ikkaku, blood dripping down his face from the gash on his head, could only stare in wide-eyed wonder at the blonde sitting next to him. He continued to gawk even as Kira put the now empty bottle back on the table. Suddenly, Ikkaku burst out laughing. The unexpected harsh sound caused Kira to jump in his seat and Ikkaku slapped him on the back.

"You're all right blondie. Don't think half the guys in Seireitei woulda had the balls to challenge me like that. Guess you have earned that Lieutenant's badge," Ikkaku gave Kira another beer and took one for himself, clinking the two together.

Kira, recoving from the severe beating his back received from the enthusiastic man next to him, took the bottle. "Yeah, well, I'm not a pansy-ass, and I can take you anytime Third-Seat Madarame," he smirked as he took a swig of beer.

Ikkaku raised an eyebrow, dark eyes glowing. "Pulling rank on me, are ya, ya catty bastard. Well, Lieutenant Kira, where is it you plan on taking me and what, pray tell, are ya planning on doin' to me when we get there?" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, smirking at the blonde.

The mouthful of beer Kira just took was now all over Ikkaku's face. His mouth was hanging open, little dribbles of beer dripping off his chin and onto the floor. A blush reached from his forehead, down his neck, and all the way to his ears. "Gah, I, uh, um, no, I mean, like, um, uh, fight, you know, with, like, our swords, I mean, zanpakuto or um, fists, kidou…stuff," he paused in his rambling, "Oh my God, I just spit all over you and, is that blood?"

Ikkaku threw his head back and laughed again as Kira tried to wipe the beer, blood, and spit off his face. "You're somethin' else, eh Kira? You're on. I'll have to smack some sense into that pretty heada yours. Nobody challenges Madarame Ikkaku and gets away with it," he said as Kira finished wiping up the mess. The blonde simply nodded and went back to drinking his beer.

Hisagi laughed at the display at the table across from his. Looking over at Yumichika, he asked, "Why doesn't Ikkaku make fun of you for drinking that girly shit?"

Yumichika glanced at Hisagi over his tequila sunrise. "Because Ikkaku knows better than to make any of his crude comments to me," he smirked, "I've trained him well. And besides, there aren't many drinks that compliment my beauty as much as this one."

Hisagi snorted and finished off his beer. He began playing with the empty bottle, debating what he should get next when he noticed that Yumichika was still staring at him. He narrowed his eyes at the other man, "What's your deal? I got something on my face or do you wanna start somthin'?"

Yumichika giggled behind his hand. After he finished the last of his drink he spoke up, "Ne Hisagi-kun, want to play a game?"

Hisagi blinked, "What? A drinking game? With you? You sure you can handle that? I mean, I'm quite the strong drinker and you're a tiny little thing. I don't want you to get sick or nothing."

Yumichika giggled once again, "I am flattered by your concern for me. It's rather adorable, but trust me, I can hold my alcohol just fine." He motioned for the waitress and ordered a tray of assorted Schnapps shots. "I hope you don't mind," he said as he took his first shot, peach, "Schnapps has such beautiful flavors."

Hisagi looked through the tray and chose a peppermint shot, "So, you got a game in mind or are we just going for pure endurance?"

Smiling over his shot glass, Yumichika's eyes glittered. "I figured endurance," he raised his glass, "May the best man win."

They clinked their glasses and drained them of their contents. One by one the shots began disappearing from the tray: sour apple, cherry, butterscotch, blackberry, apricot. Yumichika waved the waitress over once again for another tray.

Hisagi rubbed a hand over his eyes, thinking that the motion would somehow stop his fuzzy vision. He could feel the flush on his cheeks and the start of a headache from all the sugar. He looked across the table to see how Yumichika was faring. 'Damn, the bastard looks the same as always. His face isn't red or nothin'. Where the hell is he putting it?' He swallowed another shot. "Hey, stop cheatin', Ayasegawa-san. You're feeding them to Ikkaku or somethin', I know it," Hisagi slurred as he slammed his empty glass on the table.

Yumichika's lavender eyes narrowed, "Are you accusing an 11th Division member of cheating? Really Hisagi-kun, just because I can hold my liquor better than you does not give you the right to start name-calling." He downed another shot and smirked, "Should I slow down for you so you can start catching up, or do you just want to call this one my win," he paused, "again?"

"Hell no!" Hisagi hissed as he jumped up from the table, almost knocking it over in his haste. He reached across and grabbed a handful of Yumichika's uniform. He pulled him close so that their faces were nearly touching, snarling, "Now you listen here peacock, that was a one time thing. I'm not going to lose to you again, you got that?"

Yumichika grinned, "Of course Hisagi-kun, my apologies. Now, if you'd be so kind as to let me go, we can continue our little challenge."

Hisagi dropped his hands and flopped back into his chair. "Good, apology accepted," he chose another shot.

Slowly, the shots on the second tray began to dwindle. With a pained groan, Hisagi's head connected loudly with the table. The force of the impact knocked over all of the remaining drinks. Yumichika leaned over the table and poked Hisagi in the shoulder, "Hisagi-kun? Are you conscious?" When he was met with no reply, he called to his other companions. "Guys, I think it's time to go. Hisagi-kun has already passed out."

Ikkaku leaned down and looked at Hisagi's sleeping face. "Shit Yumichika, what the hell didja do to the guy?"

Yumichika huffed, "He did it to himself."

Renji stumbled over to the table, nearly knocking Kira down in the process. He grinned, "So, what should be do with him?"

Yumichika mirrored Renji's grin, "I have just the idea. Ikkaku, Iba, you guys carry him and follow me."

Hisagi was shaking with anger. 'Those fucking bastards. When I get out of here I'm going to shave Renji's head, destroy Kira's office, break all of Iba's glasses, tag Ikkaku's head, and murder Ayasegawa in his sleep.' Suddenly, from outside, he heard a voice.

"Yes, I will meet you there shortly. I just need to grab a spare cloak from my wardrobe. I'll be right back," said the slightly muffled voice.

Hisagi's heart started racing. He could hear and feel it pounding in his chest. 'Please, please, please, don't be someone important. Don't let me be more embarrassed than I already am.'

Light assaulted Hisagi's eyes as the door was pulled open. Shutting them quickly, he was unable to see what he hoped would be his savior, but he heard a loud gasp followed by a fit of coughing.

"Lieutenant Hisagi! What are you doing here?" Ukitake exclaimed.

Hisagi's eyes widened as he looked upon the face of the 13th Division captain. 'Shit, shit, shit! Why the hell did they put me in Ukitake's wardrobe of all places?!'

"Hisagi-san, why are you…" Ukitake's mouth hung open. His eyes roamed from the handcuffed hands, to the gag, to the bare chest of the young man he found in his wardrobe. On that sculpted chest was scrawled something in almost undecipherable kanji: Property of Ukitake Jyuushiro. Send thanks to Renji, Yumichika, Ikkaku, Kira, and Iba.

Hisagi began to twitch. 'Why is he staring at my…" He glanced down to see what he was staring at on his chest. A muffled squeak escaped his gag as he noticed the blazing brown eyes and a thin line of drool escaping the older man's mouth. 'Oh fuck me…."


End file.
